


Tell Me You Love (Just this last time)

by LizaGreen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF Anakin Skywalker, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Introspection, Kinda, References to the Jedi Council (Star Wars), That's Not How The Force Works, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, i don't care, i'm doing this anyway, later on, some kindly, some not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaGreen/pseuds/LizaGreen
Summary: Darth Vader dies on the Death Star Mark II in the arms of his son. He wakes up on the day the Jedi Temple is bombed and his Padawan is put on trial. The Force, it appears, is not done with him yet.Somehow, he has to save his Padawan, stop Palpatine, salvage a marriage and not accidently kill the man who betrayed him all those years ago. It all works out, in  a way.Or perhaps, he'll mess it all up again. He isn't sure.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any discrepancies, I am only familiar with the OT, PT and Clone Wars cartoons, my apologies to EU fans! This is only going to be a three part series but it is my first ever Time-Travel fic so please be kind and I hop you enjoy!

_Light_. That was the first sensation to return, along with the feeling of soft cotton under his fingertips. He blinked, blearily, wondering if this was what life in the Force was truly like. Could one feel after they died? Was this some form of afterlife? He shifted, unwilling to fully open his eyes, languishing in the feeling of sucking in each breath without the need for a respirator. Without a constant sound denoting each breath in and out. Blessed silence. And the sounds of distant calls, people outside this small cocoon he had formed around himself.

A loud banging interrupted the calm.

“Anakin!” It was a voice he hadn’t heard in years and his breath caught in his throat as he shot upright, so fast some blood ran to his head making him slightly dizzy. “Anakin! It’s nearing noon!” The fond exasperation was new. Or not new. Old. Before he had turned. But that was impossible. He had _died_. He couldn’t…

The door swished open and in came the form of Obi-Wan Kenobi, twenty years younger than the last time he had seen him, looking distinctly unimpressed to find his old Padawan still abed. A bed that he shouldn’t be in because this room had been destroyed years before. In a temple that should be the Emperor’s Palace…

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. “What kind of example are you setting Ahsoka?” _Ahsoka…_ His addled mind, still uncomprehending and stuck somewhere between the past Anakin Skywalker and the horrors of Darth Vader, clung to that name, the one constant he could find. The only person who had yet to abandon him, even in his darkest of moments. Concern flitted across Obi-Wan’s face as he continued to stare at him, unsure of what exactly was happening. “Anakin, are you-?” He was cut off by the sound of an explosion, a familiar explosion and Anakin- that was what he might as well go by now- leapt out of bed, not caring that he was still in his sleep clothes, barefoot, and tore through the Temple, praying that this _wasn’t _the day he thought it was.

It was.

Familiar bodies lay strewn across the hanger. People were rushing about, groans coming from those clones that were merely injured, Jedi pale as they attempted some form of damage control that the nano bombs had caused. He felt Obi-Wan catch up with him, flinching as the man laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Force…” Obi-Wan breathed in shock and Anakin swallowed anything he might have said. Was it too late to prevent Ahsoka’s imprisonment? If he remembered rightly, they had some time between now, the funeral and the resulting investigation into Lita. But he had spent so long pushing down memories of this time that he couldn’t quite grasp all the details. _Is this it? Is she forever fated to be falsely accused, to have her life ripped out from under her?_ Anakin wondered, unable to do anything but stand there, frozen. What was the point of being here now, if there was nothing he could do to prevent the horrors of the future?

The answers didn’t come that day.

The investigation passed in a blur. Anakin knew he was acting off, flinching away from Obi-Wan, avoiding the Temple as much as he could, and he had clean forgotten the argument Ahsoka had had with Tarkin. Tarkin, who would try to have her killed. By the time he caught up with the news that Ahsoka had been summoned to the prison to talk, he knew he was too late. Just as before, she was falsely accused, and he was refused entry to see her. He struggled against the urge to strangle each and every one of them, his decision made for him.

Barriss Offee used Ahsoka to make a point, undermining her cause by bloodying her hands with the deaths of her fellow Jedi and clone troopers. She was a link that wouldn’t be broken, but there were other pieces to this conspiracy. He didn’t follow the troops when Ahsoka ran. He gave his orders, ran to the drain where she would take her leap of faith and waited. He had made his decision- would have gone through with it sooner, but he didn’t know any way to save her life otherwise.

Ahsoka stumbled slightly when she saw him, waiting there, shocked. She backpedalled slightly but didn’t run. It hurt to see her face like this again, betrayed and scared, running for her life. This time it wouldn’t be so close.

“Anakin,” she stuttered, hand gripping her one remaining lightsabre. He would retrieve the other one soon.

“Ahsoka,” he greeted softly. “I know you’re innocent.” She blinked, staring at him, relief warring with the terror of being discovered, faint shouts of the troopers behind them. “You don’t have much time before they find you.” He took a deep breath, shifting to move out of her way. “I can’t tell you everything now but… when you catch up with Ventress, trust her.” Ahsoka reeled back at that, staring, her mouth open and about to say something but Anakin shook his head, grabbing her arms quickly, aware they were rapidly running out of time. “I swear, when this is all over, I’ll explain. But… you have to make it out of this _alive_ and I know you. You’ll find the evidence you need. Just have faith, in yourself and the Force.” The shouts were getting louder, and Anakin spun them round, so Ahsoka was facing the way she needed to go. “I have faith in you.” _More than I have ever had faith in myself _he added mentally, not caring whether she heard him or not. His shields were tight, but his moods had been erractic these past few days and she had easily picked up on those. Ahsoka nodded, relief of being believed and renewed determination despite the vague details he was giving her. That he believed gave her the courage to do so too. He gathered her up into one last desperate hug, holding her close for a moment before pulling back. “Now go.” She nodded, grim determination and understanding on her face.

“Wish me luck,” she quipped, glancing down for the transport he knew was there and jumped. He rushed forward to watch her mad leap, finally caught up by the clones that had been chasing her. He waited until she was out of sight before turning away.

* * *

This time, he didn’t join the resulting chase for Ahsoka through the lower levels. Instead, he went straight to Padme. She wouldn’t know it, but he had been avoiding her as much as he yearned to see her again. His precious angel that he had hurt oh so long ago. But not this time. And if she wanted a divorce by the time he finished explaining, then he would let her go, the way he had never been able to before. After all, if he were to change the future, to stop Palpatine, he would most likely not live long enough to regret those actions. The only difference being that Luke and Leia would not be a part of this world. Padme looked surprised to see him, her face crumpling in pity and then surprise as he swept her up in a close embrace. He would allow himself this last hold, before she inevitably pushed him away.

“Anakin…” she breathed. “I heard about Ahsoka,” she started but Anakin shook his head. He had to do this now, before what little courage he had fled.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “There’s… something I need to tell you.” Padme blinked, surprised but serious.

“Ok,” was all she said, leading him towards the sofa.

It took several hours for him to tell it all. Some parts, he had to grasp for, lost in the maelstrom and madness that his mind had become, so lost in the Dark Side he had been. He couldn’t even accurately tell her _how_ she had died. By his hand or Sidious’, he could never quite figure out. Even now, after having a week to mull it over in the quiet moments, wondering whether it had been a dream, vision or reality, he would be unable to tell her. Padme’s face was politely blank, her Senator face if he had ever seen it and never before deployed to him. But things had changed, _he_ had changed, and he could understand her disgust at his actions. When he finished, his throat was dry and scratchy from talking for so long and Padme’s face was still blank. A long silence fell over them as his most likely soon-to-be ex-wife mulled over all of the information he had just given her. He coughed, breath sticking in his dry throat before he spoke again.

“If you want a divorce, I’ll understand,” he croaked. “But, please help Ahsoka.” As Vader he would never have begged, but he was determined to never be Vader again. But he could never return to being Anakin Skywalker either. Padme started at that, reaching out to take a hand.

“Of course, I’ll help Ahsoka,” she said, determined as always. “But before I make any decisions over divorce…” She paused and took in a deep breath. “What are you going to do now?” Anakin blinked, staring at her a moment.

“Find the evidence against Barriss. Convince Ventress to come forward with her own. Leave the Jedi Council and take down Sidious. If I manage to live through that…” he trailed off, unsure. Become a hermit? Live his life in the quiet solitude knowing that all he loved hated him? There was no way to win against Sidious without using the Dark Side and if he didn’t succumb to it a second time, what was there worth living for? Everyone he loved would be safe and, more important, with him away from them, they would be safe from _him_. Padme gripped his hands tighter, as if sensing the road his thoughts had wandered down.

“I think that, for once, we ought to not rush into things,” Padme said carefully. Anakin stared at her, wondering how he was so blessed to know such a woman. She squeezed his hands before letting them go, offering him a small smile. “I’ve always known that you were capable of both great and terrible things, Ani,” she said and Anakin internally winced, remembering that he hadn’t been the only one to keep the secret of his slaughter in the Tatooine deserts. “And maybe we were hasty to rush into marriage the way we did. But we haven’t yet reached that breaking point, _you_ haven’t reached that breaking point,” she continued. “We’ll help Ahsoka and after you’ve left… we’ll figure out the rest. Together.” He swallowed and suddenly crumpled forward, overwhelmed. She held him as he cried, the grief that he held for so long overcoming him. All twenty four years of it. The relief that she hadn’t just rejected him outright, that she would look into the darkest parts of him and look right past them, focusing on keeping him in the light. That she knew all of his shatterpoints and accepted them, flaws and all, helped him grip tighter to the Light around him. For the first time since returning, he felt… balanced. At peace. Not completely in the Light but also not in danger of drowning in the Dark. He loved her fiercely, loved Ahsoka, Rex and his troops and even Obi-Wan but he also felt at peace in clinging to the ferocious protectiveness and anger the Dark Side leant him to keep them from their deaths.

And for once, he knew exactly how to move forwards.

When the tears finally stopped, slowed to the occasional hiccup, Padme stood to get him a glass of water, which he took gratefully. She gave him a soft smile, not quite forgiving him, but not leaving him either. He swore to himself that he would do right by her this time, do the right thing for all of them. And to do that, he needed to catch up with Ventress. By now, the soldiers would have caught Ahsoka in the warehouse and her trial would be tomorrow. He had to be there for that, but first, Ventress.

He found her sprawled in an alleyway, an hour after leaving Padme. He still felt wrung out and exhausted, unable to truly rest until this whole debacle was over. He fetched a bottle of water and propped her up against the alley wall, waiting patiently. It took her some time to wake, feelings of pain and vulnerability echoing around her. He had been too angry to notice them before, but he did now. She had been attacked out of nowhere by an unknown assailant, robbed of her weapons and then left to rot in the underbelly of Coruscant. Had he been in the same position, he would probably feel the same. He felt her shock when she finally opened her eyes, attempting to scramble back only to realise she was already against a wall.

“Skywalker,” she spat, eyeing him warily. He simply held out the bottle of water.

“Here,” he said. She narrowed her eyes but took the bottle gingerly, probably wondering if he had poisoned it. He waited as she took a swig of water, blinking away the residual grogginess that came with being knocked out so hard. “Ahsoka’s been captured,” he said after a moment. Ventress blinked, her eyes narrowing.

“And what’s that got to do with me?” she sniffed.

“You were the last person seen with her. They’ll assume you were working together,” Anakin said and Ventress scoffed.

“That would be because we _were_. I helped her find that warehouse her friend told her about and I let her go free.” She took another draught of water as Anakin pretended to be confused. It was strange without the mask to do so- for so long he had had no need to hide facial expressions from people since they couldn’t actually _see_ what they were behind that damnable mask.

“What friend?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer. Clearly, it wasn’t convincing enough as Ventress narrowed her eyes at him but answered anyway.

“How should I know?” she snapped. “I believe she called her Barriss.” Anakin nodded, making to stand.

“Would you be willing to give that as evidence in Ahsoka’s trial?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be. “I’ll ensure it won’t become a trail on _you_.” Ventress’ scowl deepened.

“And how would you do that?” she spat. He just gave her a grin, more sinister than any Anakin Skywalker ought to be able to give and she jolted, sensing the Dark Side around him.

“I have my ways,” he said, standing. “Besides, you don’t have your lightsabres. Whoever has them is the culprit.” Ventress stared at him, no longer hiding her suspicions.

“You’re not Skywalker,” she stated flatly, and he just nodded. There was no denying it. Anakin Skywalker was dead. He had been for a long time and no amount of being flung back into the past would fix that. Whoever he was now, he wasn’t entirely sure, but it seemed better than any of his other personas. Perhaps he ought to change his name? Something that had no connotation to slavery? _Perhaps I ought to ask Padme if, after I leave the Jedi Order, I can take her name? _He knew traditionally on Naboo, wives took their husbands name but on Tatooine, the freed slave cast aside the slave name as soon as. And Skywalker had always been a slave name. It bore some thinking about.

But first, he had a Council to call out on their actions.

* * *

Ahsoka’s trial by the Jedi went as he remembered it. He stepped in, too angry with them still for the fact that they so readily handed her over to Tarkin. No doubt he had them thinking that it would be bad for their _image_. Pity they didn’t realise that that damage was done already simply by being Generals in an army of slaves. He had had some interesting conversations with Veers. It was on the way to Barriss’ rooms that he wondered if it was worth catching up with the man- not that he would know him now. Or respect him.

Barriss was sat just as he remembered, praying to her god. Serene. The perfect image of a Jedi devoted to the Order. People thought that Jedi were forced to decry their local customs, but there was no such edict. You could worship who you liked so long as it didn’t interfere with the Jedi Code. Anakin had hidden his own religion simply because he was so used to doing so and that it relied heavily on your connection to others. Attachments. He hid the rising sneer on his face- so far, his attachments were the only thing keeping him from going on a killing spree of all the useless and corrupted scum on this planet. But he had sworn to Padme and himself that he would do better. And so, he would.

“Master Skywalker,” Barriss greeted politely and he wasted no time in removing her lightsabre from her reach. There were two ways he could approach this- the way he had last time or simply come out and tell her that he knew. However, the latter option might mean that she would run and get away, and he needed the evidence other than just his word and that of Ventress to prosecute her. He needed more than a confession- this time he would show her the error of her ways. So, he proceeded. She reacted the way he remembered, calm and defensive, right up until the point he mentioned Ventress. The moment she pulled out Ventress’ lightsabres however, he didn’t give her the pleasure of a further attack.

“You should have gotten rid of them,” he noted lightly, far calmer than the previous time he had gone through this. She narrowed her eyes, shoving back with all her might while he didn’t budge. The upside of being without the suit meant that his reflexes had sharpened, and he had spent many sleepless hours after the nightmares honing his skills further- he was used to being heavier and clumsier, now he could complete feats he hadn’t been able to do for years. It had been jarring at first but over time it got easier. Before, he had only ever faced Ventress, Dooku and a handful of other lightsabre wielders. Now, he had faced hundreds, usually Jedi of varying skills, masters he had never faced before and his own deadly training by Sidious. Honestly, after this he was leaving the lightsabre here- these new skills might be handy now, but they scared him too. If he had a weapon like this all the time, what would he be capable of doing when driven over the edge? Who would be able to stop him? He didn’t want to find out, he’d seen enough slaughter.

“I think they suit me,” she stated once more, although this time her tone was nervous, caught off guard by how calm he was. He allowed her to run into the corridor, allowed a small fight so that the guards would arrive. But before she could attempt to flee out of the window, he forcibly dragged her back how he should have done the first time, flinging her into the wall with the Force and holding her there. He collected Ventress’ lightsabres as well. She was quickly detained and taken off to the ongoing trial, Anakin following behind. He met with Ventress outside as they took her in, the Nightsister raising an eyebrow at his quick work.

“This new you works quickly,” she observed, ignoring the stares flung their way. The infamous Hero with no Fear walking calmly with Dooku’s ex-assassin? It appeared to have boggled people’s minds.

“You can have your lightsabres back if you want, but at the moment they’re evidence,” he said, ignoring her comment. She shrugged, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“I think I’ve discovered I’m no longer in need of them,” she decided after a moment’s reflection. He gave a slight smile at that- last time she had had to adapt. This time, she had chosen to discard them, to find her own way. The Council would not like him defending her, nor his next few moves either.

The commotion they made arriving was similar. Barriss made her little speech, Ventress gave her evidence, further solidifying the case against her and the lightsabres were offered up with both Anakin and the guards affirming that Barriss had had them. That she wasn’t confessing under duress. Ahsoka’s betrayal was clear to see and Anakin longed to approach her, to comfort her and tell her it was alright, but he refrained. The Council were busy watching, murmuring amongst themselves.

Padme caught up to him as they were leaving the Courts. She dragged him behind a pillar and into an alcove, kissed him briefly and then hugged him tightly.

“Bring her home,” she whispered quickly in their tiny window. “And promise me you won’t go running off to face Palpatine. The feelings in there…” She shuddered, squeezing his hand. “We’ll find a way to outsmart him. You must know of a way.” He could think of a few and he promised to sound them out with her later. After he had left. She then made him promise to agree to meet with her tailor the next day. “You can’t wear these anymore if you leave.”

“Any colour except black or red,” he agreed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and leaving, heart singing at this small meeting. Everything had happened so fast, had flown by and only yesterday had they agreed to see how things played out. She might not be as close as before, but she was trying. They both were.

* * *

He waited until Ahsoka had left before he tucked the braid into a pocket and removed his own lightsabre. Kenobi’s face was stricken as he handed it to Yoda, the only one he could look in the eyes these days, solemnly.

“I’m leaving,” he said simply, stepping away. The small Jedi Master regarded him silently. He had probably noticed the changes in Anakin a week ago, the moment he had woken up, but had politely not mentioned them. He had probably seen this coming. Obi-Wan, however, clearly hadn’t.

“Anakin,” he said, stepping forward and grasping his arm. Anakin did his best not to flinch at the contact. “What are you doing? You can’t… I know Ahsoka has made her decision but you don’t need to-“

“This isn’t to do with Ahsoka,” Anakin said, only partially lying. “I… I can’t explain it all, you wouldn’t believe me. But… I’ve realised that I have to stop lying to myself and to others. And to do that, I _have_ to leave.” Windu raised an eyebrow at that and Anakin remembered, all those years ago and a couple of years into the future, the man telling him _if this is true, you will have gained my trust_. The barb still stung, the anger still there even now. Confirmation of what he had always suspected- that the man had never trusted him.

“Anakin you’re throwing your life away!” Obi-Wan pleaded, strangely reminiscent of himself pleading to Ahsoka.

“No,” Anakin said, pulling his arm out of his old Master’s grip. “I’m not. I’m done with doing that.” And he had, oh so many times. This was the last time, a way to start anew, to prevent what was coming as fast as he could. Obi-Wan recoiled, correctly reading the inflection there.

“Persuade you to stay, we cannot,” Yoda observed. “What brought this on, you know?” Anakin had forgotten the diminutive master’s speech patterns.

“I…” How could he explain? He had jumbled it with Padme, but she understood his ramblings and he had promised Ahsoka, who he really needed to catch up to. “I never should have been trained,” he said simply. “I can never be a Jedi. Not when the Sith has influenced me so much.” It was mostly the truth and several other Masters stepped back now, eyeing him warily. Yoda stayed where he was, observing carefully. He gave the troll a bow, respectful as he could be to the being that had split his family apart, in the name of duty. “If you would like, I can explain. But another day. I have a lost friend to help.” He turned and left then, avoiding the look of horror on Obi-Wan’s face, the memory of lava and burning flesh alight in his mind and he scratched idly at the edge of his prosthetic, at the phantom pain there.

It turned out he needn’t have worried too much about trying to catch up with Ahsoka. She had stopped at the top of the Temple steps, staring out at the world, overwhelmed. He gently touched her shoulder, causing her to jump and he gave her a smile.

“Come on Snips. Let me take you home,” he said, and her eyes widened, shrugging him off.

“No, Anakin! I’m not going back,” she said firmly, about to continue but he held up a hand.

“I know. Neither am I,” he said, and her eyes widened as she observed the missing weapon from his belt. “This has never really been home to me. But Padme wants to see you.” Her eyes softened then, surprise and humour there behind the sadness, a small shining light of who she was.

“Oh,” was all she said, allowing him to lead her forwards, away from the Temple and into her new life. He knew she wouldn’t stay long but she was welcome however long it took her to figure out her path. Welcome whenever she felt like really. The only issue being that, since neither of them were part of the Order any more, they had no transport or money. He commed Padme, who agreed to send a transport that she would pay for. She had smiled then, sadness in her eyes. _What’s mine, is yours_. It was like she was trying to remind him of something, but what, he wasn’t sure.

It didn’t take long for the transport to arrive, or to get from the Temple to 500 Republica. Padme was waiting for them and happily paid the driver, sweeping Ahsoka up into a hug as she ushered them inside. Soon they were all sat within her kitchen, cups of tea set in front of them. It was strangely domestic in a way that Anakin had never experienced before. He found it peaceful, far more than anything else he had experienced in his life. Ahsoka was sat in silence, sipping at her tea slowly, still looking a little shellshocked and Anakin shared a glance with Padme. Now was not the time to reveal all to the girl he considered a younger sister. Perhaps in the morning, but not now.

They spent the rest of that evening in idle chatter. Padme managed to coax Ahsoka out of her shell some, got her to smile again in a way that warmed Anakin’s shattered heart, while he merely sat, content to watch from the outside. Over the years he had gotten good at merely observing, somewhat crucial under Sidious’ regime, from the number of assassination attempts the man threw at him from time to time. It meant that now, such useless chatter meant nothing to him, unlike how he had been in the past, trying to fill every moment of silence with noise to drown out the horrors of war that surrounded him.

To escape the blood-soaked memories that were waiting to creep up in the dark.

That part hadn’t gone away. Now, not only was he plagued by Anakin Skywalker’s nightmares, but also Darth Vader’s. If it were not Obi-Wan’s fake death playing out behind his eyes or Ahsoka’s actual death on Mortis, it was Padme’s face, gasping her last few breaths. It was Luke screaming his denial and horror at the truth of his parentage, minus a hand. It was Leia’s terrified face as the torture drone approached. It was Ahsoka again, defiant and scared, adamant to never leave. Each time he woke, he had to check that they were both there, that this was reality and not some strange dream he had conjured for himself. Eventually, in the early hours, he gave up on rest. Unlike in the Temple, Padme had helped to coax him back to sleep, but this time he kissed her forehead and told her to go back to sleep. She would need her rest if they were to face Palpatine together, in the most precarious position he had been in for a while.

Anakin was not expecting to find Ahsoka sat at the kitchen counter as well, dark circles under her eyes. She blinked at him a moment, face blank. Then her gaze cleared, and she sat up straighter, almost blushing to have been found in such a way. He didn’t say anything, merely gave her a smile and a nod, already searching through Padme’s cabinets for what he knew had been there ever since their marriage and his mother’s death.

_Shai _was something of a staple in Anakin Skywalker’s day and, occasionally, on the rare moments he had been feeling particularly nostalgic, Darth Vader’s. Since his awakening here, it had seemed to be the one thing he decided to return to, the one piece of Skywalker’s life he would keep. Ahsoka jumped slightly as he set the second mug in front of her, startled at the appearance of the spiced type of tea that she had never had before.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked placidly, savouring the first sip of his own. Traditionally, when one brewed the drink, you poured the first mug back in, to wash it around, but Ahsoka had missed that in the haze she was stuck in. This time she did blush, nodding, but accepted the cup, closing her eyes as she took her first sip. She blinked a couple of times.

“What is this?” she asked, curious, deliberately not answering his question. She didn’t need to- it was rather obvious why they were both here in the early hours of the morning. He from his nightmares, her from the apparently detached place she now found herself in in life.

“_Shai_. It’s something we used to make, on Tatooine.” Ahsoka _did _stare at him then, surprised. Skywalker had never spoken of Tatooine voluntarily, only ever revealing his past in snippets, usually like trying to drag blood from a stone. But Anakin had been a slave for the majority of his life, had spent the next twenty-four years living at the whims of a madman, gone mad himself and only saved by the limitless optimism and grace of Luke, who refused to give up on him. Perhaps it was Padme he had gotten that from- he, himself, had never been much of an optimist. Talking of the past now was not so painful.

“Oh,” was all she said thankfully, taking another experimental sip. “It’s good.” He offered her a smile and they sat in silence, watching as the sky shifted from deep black disrupted by the constant lights of Coruscant, to the grey light of dawn, the sky turning a deep red then pink before finally paling to what ought to have been a bright blue of a sunny day if not for the pollution. Anakin valued this silence. He knew that Ahsoka would not be so forgiving as Padme.

Eventually, they were joined by the woman herself, surprised but pleased by the sight of them sharing in the drink. Unlike Ahsoka, he had explained to her the deep significance _shai _had in his culture, no doubt remembering the night Shmi had made it for them all just before he had foolishly left with Qui Gon Jinn.

“How did you sleep?” Padme asked politely and Ahsoka gave her a strained smile in response. Padme just gave her a soothing one in return. “You don’t have to lie to appease me Ahsoka,” she said gently. “I know that this must be hard for you.” Harder than it ever would have been for him. Anakin knew life outside the Order, had stayed simply because it was better than the alternative his life might have taken. Ahsoka knew no other life than that of the Temple, so painfully obvious since the moment they met back on Christophsis. His first nightmare over her had been for her to lose that innocence, one that he was unable to prevent from coming true. War broke all who entered it.

“Thank you,” Ahsoka said, tracing a finger around the rim of the mug, her second cup of _shai _still steaming some. “I appreciate your hospitality but…”

“You can stay as long as you want,” Padme said firmly. “You’re always welcome here Ahsoka. You’re a part of our family.” Ahsoka blinked and Padme wrapped an arm around her. “Anakin doesn’t make _shai _for just anyone.” Well, that was true. He had never made it for Obi-Wan, despite the man’s queries as to why his rooms always smelt like tea when he had never seemed keen to drink it. Once upon a time he had considered doing so but now, too much had occurred between them, whether that be in the future or the past. A child’s wish for a father dashed on the smouldering rocks of Mustafar.

“I don’t understand…” Ahsoka said in a quiet voice, eyeing her cup once again, this time in mild suspicion. Anakin found himself laughing at that, somehow finding a humour he had thought long gone.

“It’s not poison, Snips,” he said, freezing only slightly as the nickname slipped out. It was the first time he had called her so since waking up in the past, so used to having forsaken such an easy camaraderie with her. Probably the first time he had sounded like Skywalker too. It seemed that leaving the Order had done plenty good for him already going by the startled but delighted gleam in his wife’s eyes. “The people I was born amongst, we made _shai _for those we considered family. In a slave’s life, blood means very little in that regard,” he continued sombrely. Ahsoka swallowed, eyes shimmering as she grasped the concept he had offered. He had always been terrible at expressing himself, whether as Skywalker or Vader, stemming from a childhood of being repressed one way or another. He had learnt that expressing his feelings would often end in a beating or, once reaching the Temple, a lecture, so he hid them away where no one but Padme could see. But Ahsoka had learnt to read him, much the same as Rex had over the years, and he could see that she was touched, that she _understood _what he was offering. What _they_ were offering.

“I don’t want to impose,” she said in a small voice, uncharacteristically meek. Padme gave her a squeeze.

“Of course, you aren’t. As I said, you’ll always have a place here whether you want to stay indefinitely or just until you’ve gotten back on your feet,” Padme said and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Unfortunately, I have Senator duties to attend to this morning and you two have a conversation to have.” This last part was directed towards him and Anakin just nodded. He wasn’t sure if this would be easier or harder than explaining himself to Padme.

In the end, it turned out about the same. It was marginally easier to put things in order, having hashed them out with Padme once before, meaning he didn’t jump about too much in time because one broken memory had popped up every so often, but it was harder because Ahsoka didn’t bother keeping her emotions off her face. Perhaps she was too wrung out by the ordeal that this week had been to make the effort, or he had simply been that terrible of a teacher, he couldn’t tell. Either way, at the end, the sun was high in the sky and the apartment was silent as Ahsoka stared at him in horror across the coffee table. He had deliberately sat on the neighbouring sofa, knowing she would want space between them by the end of this sorry tale.

“So… this whole time… how could you?” Ahsoka asked, tone somewhere between lost and appalled, as if she couldn’t make up her mind about the horrors ahead. Part of him had wanted to spare her some of the details but he had vowed to stop lying to himself. To stop running from the past. Leaving the Order had been the first part of that, the next being to find help for all his mental issues. Unfortunately, many of them stemmed from time ahead of the now, meaning that a normal psychiatrist would be unable to help even if they understood at all in the first place. Padme had quietly suggested a mind healer and Anakin hadn’t given her an answer as to what he thought about that. He had only left the day before, had just walked out on them. He doubted the Temple would be happy to see him back so soon and Obi-Wan might take it as a sign he would come back. But perhaps Yoda, who had dabbled in mind healing, might be able to point them in the right direction.

“I don’t have an excuse,” Anakin said, averting his gaze away and out of the window behind her. Outside people rushed by, minding their own business, happily unaware of the danger encroaching on them even now. Thinking that they were safe when they were truly sat at the centre of the war. “All I can do is move forward, try to make up for the things I helped screw up. Make amends for the horrors Sidious has planned.” _Many of which, I was a part of_ he found himself thinking and swallowed back the bile. There was little that could truly make him sick anymore outside of his own mind. He had kept their bond shut tight, so she wouldn’t have to witness that, but she was knocking now, insistent, wanting to understand. “You don’t want me to open our bond Ahsoka,” he said flatly, placing the empty mug on the table, still not looking at her. “You don’t want to see.” _I don’t want you to see._

“No, I need to,” she said just as firmly, sounding more like herself than ever. For a moment, he could see the woman she would have become, the hardened warrior fighting for a hopeless cause. Anakin knew Leia believed in the Republic, that the Alliance somehow thought that it would set things right again. His daughter had lived in blissful ignorance of the truth, of the festering corruption that had been all Palpatine needed to exploit to make the Empire. Part of him had always scoffed at her naivety- the other part was jealous that she had been so privileged while Luke and himself had been relegated to the sandy hell that had been Tatooine. For all she had fought for the people’s rights, she understood very little of how the world worked. At least, until he had heard about the end of Jabba and his heart bled further as he lay dying, weeping for that same loss of innocence so cruelly taken from all those around him. In her, he had seen what Ahsoka had once been, before the war had stripped them both bare and hardened them beyond what they ought to be. “You said I forgave you once. And I want to help stop Sidious.” She was determined, the knocks on his shields louder now. He swallowed, wondering if he could do this.

After all, that had been his final nightmare before giving in.

But he had to give in eventually. He always would, for her. Of all those he had killed she had been the one opponent he couldn’t bring himself to end. A sole survivor of Vader’s bloodlust stemmed by the burning ashes of Anakin Skywalker. He knew the moment she saw, her eyes going wide and he looked away. If there was one thing he couldn’t bear, it would be the hatred in her eyes. He could bear almost anything, except that. So, he was surprised when two small hands took his own.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, holding tight. “I would have helped. I… I knew you were always _close _to Padme and I suppose I would probably always guess that any child would be yours…” she trailed off, tears making thin tracks down her cheeks. “But I suppose, you didn’t leave then.” Her voice was harder, swallowing down _something_ and Anakin very nearly looked away again. He stopped when she poked his shields, once again back up and raging. “Don’t close yourself off again,” she said firmly, wrapping strong arms around him. “Not from me, nor from _your wife_,” she said and they both nearly half giggled through the tears at the palpable incredulity in her voice at those two words, “but most of all, from _yourself_.” He blinked and she poked him physically this time, right on the forehead. He wrinkled his nose, leaning away and she laughed for the first time in a long while. “I could see what was going on in there. You’re not made up of different people Skyguy. Skywalker, Vader, Anakin… they’re all a part of you and I guess, extremes of you. Just… try to have more faith in yourself and you might see some positives from all of them.” Anakin frowned the mood sombre once more.

“There was nothing positive about Vader,” he said firmly. Of that, he could be sure of.

“Your men respected you.”

“My men _feared_ me. It’s not the same thing.”

“You tried to protect Luke.”

“At the end, at the very last moment and after Sidious had tortured him a while.” Ahsoka smacked his arm.

“That’s _not_ what I was talking about!” she snapped. “I _saw_ in your head, you great big stupid nerfherder! They might have been justified under Sith yearning for power, but the moment you heard that Luke was alive your first instinct was not only to take him in but to _protect_ him, the best way you knew how! And I saw your terror and disappointment as well when he rejected you.” Anakin shuddered, remembering Cloud City once again. _I’ll never join you_ were the words said. _I’d rather die_ had been what his actions had screamed as Luke threw himself over the edge. And she was right- the moment Luke disappeared down that shoot, terror, fright, guilt and confusion had prevented him from stopping his son’s descent. It was only luck and Leia’s as yet unknown Force potential that had saved him from _actual_ death.

“I… never thought about it that way,” he said in a small voice, gaze on his hands. Anakin had never paid too much attention to them- larger than Luke’s certainly, considering how easily his old lightsabre had flown from his hands. Calloused from working on machines, until one had been replaced after Dooku, the other in a blurred memory covered in pain. Hands that were large enough to reach out and strangle a person even without the Force, capable of fitting around a slim and slender neck… He cut that thought off before it could go any further, clenching them into fists and looking away. Small but equally calloused hands covered them.

“That’s why you have me and Padme here. To remind you of the good stuff,” she said gently. And then, almost shyly, “Could… could we have more of that tea? It seems like you need it.” He smiled then, blinking away blood-soaked memories and not caring that it might look strained.

“Of course. You can watch if you want. Padme knows how to make it too- you’re family after all.”

* * *

Life continued on past that day. The tailor that Padme hired was rather surprised to see who he was fitting but was professional throughout, offering tips and advice on what styles were in. He and Padme had a short argument around Anakin about grey vs blue and which would suit him more. She also ordered a gown for herself and a matching outfit for him- there was a gala coming up and she was determined that this would be the time that they finally came out of the closet about their marriage. After all, their friends and family already knew that they had an interest in _someone _(most likely each other) but not the whole story. And quite honestly, they were both sick and tired of hiding it. They had managed before, in that previous life, but the secret had ultimately destroyed them. They were both determined to do better.

Contraception included.

Anakin could admit that at this particular moment, he would not be the best father and they both agreed that raising children while planning the ultimate take-down of the future Emperor was not the right time. As excited as they both were to meet Luke and Leia properly, to have children and a family, neither were currently in the right place for such a thing to happen. So they would wait, unless the Force decided to be insistent (which Anakin severely hoped not), until the time was right.

Padme insisted that Ahsoka come to the gala as well and informed the tailor that she would also be in need of a dress. His former padawan stared as they twirled around her, measurements and styles she had never known existed being discussed and colour combinations flying between the pair. He sat that one out, knowing that his own knowledge of fashion was as extensive as Ahsoka’s- meaning they both didn’t have a clue. As it had to be said, neither did Sidious’ court. He entertained her with images of the various different wild costumes some of them had worn and the tailor gave her an odd look when she burst into giggles served with a glare in his direction.

The day ended with an order-in dinner, none of them in the mood to cook, and an early night. The next morning would be when they truly started digging.


	2. The Wisdom that Alcohol Brings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but I was massively inspired to write this series by tanarill's Probability Matrices series. If you haven't read it, not only are they much more knowledgeable about the Star Wars EU than I am, but it is also a incredible series.

Anakin rose before the sun once again but was reassured to find Ahsoka still asleep in her room. Now that she knew the truth, that she had a goal and a solid place to stay until she was comfortable to leave, she was finally able to rest properly. He was gratified to see that the bags under her eyes were lightening, that the years of war were slowly becoming a part of her past,  their past, and that they could now move on. He made  shai and watched the sun rise on the balcony, thinking about the new day. A world of possibilities stood before them and for once, it felt as though he was ready to face anything. 

That feeling only lasted until Obi Wan Kenobi  came  speeding up to the landing platform below and the optimism vanished. No one else was up yet and one could not fail to notice the Jedi Master’s dishevelled appearance. For a long, terrible moment, Anakin was convinced that Sidious had just enacted Order 66, but a quick glance to the Temple revealed no smoke and he couldn’t smell the burning of any corpses, which at this time in the morning and with the direction of the wind, he would have been able to should that have happened. Instead, it seemed the man had come on his own.

“Anakin!” the man gasped, sounding almost as if he were attempting to gulp down air. The bags were heavy under his eyes, his beard scraggly and uneven showing that he had taken no care of it the past couple of days and Anakin wrinkled his nose at the smell coming off the man. Stale alcohol and sweat. It was this reaction that had prevented Skywalker from leaving last time, the fear that the man would simply fall apart without him there. A fear that was well founded but after Mustafar, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Obi Wan stumbled up to him, swaying in place, blue eyes unfocused as he stared at him. “Anakin…” he half groaned before bending over and vomiting on his bare feet. Anakin just about caught him, almost on instinct, before he,too, collapsed into the puddle and considered his options. On the one hand, he should just pack the Jedi Master back into his speeder, fly him back to the Temple and leave again. But Kenobi had sought him ought specifically and it would be unfair to judge this Kenobi by the standards of his counterpart a few years in the future. By that point, they had truly drifted apart.

In the end, he had to mentally poke Ahsoka awake. She grumbled sleepily at him, hauling the dead weight of a catatonic Jedi Master into the room and bringing him a bucket and cloth to wash his feet and Padme’s poor abused balcony before shuffling back off to bed. He had nearly finished when C3PO decided to wake the household by shrieking at the idea of not only his master cleaning the balcony, but the mess that had been made in the first place.

Considering a Jedi Master was currently black-out drunk and passed out on her couch, Padme was rather laid back about it. She did take him back into their room to change though.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, loud enough to be heard over the shower. Anakin paused in scrubbing his hair, thinking. It was a nice feeling, to have hair again and he cherished every moment of being able to take care of it and himself. After so many years of having none of these privileges, Padme was rather lenient about his long showers and it had become a little more common for them to have conversations over one now. Or, as they had the night before, share her large bathtub. “I know it must be difficult for you, having him come here.”

“It is,” he admitted, deciding to cut this one short. His hair was clean now anyways. He shut off the shower and pulled a towel around himself, watching as Padme padded around their room, pulling clothes for them both out of the drawers and wardrobe. Once again, he was struck by how domestic this was. “ I can still remember every moment at  Mustafar … but he isn’t that man right now. The man I was in the past… this was the reason I didn’t leave. A child never wants to have to take care of the ir alcohol ic father figure.” Padme turned to stare at him then, eyes startled but sad.

“Alcoholic? This has happened before?” she asked, gently placing down the garment in hand. He padded over quietly to sit at the end of the bed, fiddling with the edge of the towel.

“Not often. I remember a couple of times after Qui Gon… a few throughout the Clone Wars… It only happened during times of high stress. He’ll wake up, down a load of coffee and be gone as if nothing has happened.” But he couldn’t get the way Obi Wan had groaned his name as if he were somehow dying out of his head . As if the absence of Skywalker were somehow devastating to the man in whatever life they lived. Padme plopped down beside him, considering.

“That sounds unhealthy. ” They sat in silence a moment, both lost in thought. Then Padme spoke up once again. “Perhaps… when you find help you could… give him a nudge?” She was stiff in her posture as she said it, waiting for an inevitable explosion. Anakin swallowed, knowing that it was his volatile nature that had caused such a reaction.

“Perhaps,” he agreed quietly. “I could even give it a mention to Yoda, should I have to speak to him.” He pretended not to see her barely hidden relief behind the smile.

* * *

Obi-Wan was still out cold when they returned to the front room, Ahsoka staring down at the man in a combination of startled surprise and unrestrained sadness, as if this had confirmed several suspicions. Likely, she had had an inkling about Obi-Wan’s so-called ‘coping methods’ but Anakin had hidden those from her as best he could. It was as if the thin veneer of the perfect Jedi Master that Obi-Wan held about himself as the perfect mask had cracked, and the man’s true face leaked through. Anakin had seen it long ago, had experienced those feelings the first time the man had staggered through the door into their shared rooms, shortly before his tenth birthday, drunker than a proverbial skunk. Little Anakin had been terrified at first until the young man had swiftly passed out on the sofa and refused to talk about it the next morning. When it happened again the next week, he had been ready with the coffee the next morning, tentatively asking if he was alright. That, too, had been brushed off, but Obi-Wan had accepted the coffee with a smile. After that, the episodes occurred less often, but they were still there. Dignitaries seemed surprised at how much the Jedi could put away and the man hid his drunkenness well until they were far away from others. Anakin had often wondered, throughout his years as Padawan, if this were a new development or had been going on for years but his Master was slippery and refused to even accept that he _had_ a problem.

It helped that, during the Clone Wars, Cody had taken to hiding the alcohol on board from Kenobi. He had seemed almost bashful when Anakin had first caught him right up until Anakin had pointed out that Obi-Wan would be likely to find the bottles if they were stashed under the seat of even  _ his _ Starf ighter. He then showed him how to hide them within the machinery, a place that Obi-Wan was highly unlikely to look since he relied so heavily on Anakin to fix things about the ship, or at the very least fiddle with when he was bored.

Anakin skirted round the sofa to gently squeeze  Ahsoka’s shoulder. She glanced up at him, a worried look in her eyes and he just shook his head, already moving towards the kettle. If he had learnt one thing over the years, the smell of coffee never failed to revive the man from even the deepest drunken stupor. Padme followed him, read y ing the  _ shai _ as well. She glanced questioningly at him when he placed a hand over the mug for Obi-Wan and he shook his head.

“Not yet,” he murmured quietly, not meeting her gaze. Padme’s eyes softened and she briefly took hold of his hand and stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Not yet,” she agreed.

Ahsoka almost inhaled her  _ shai _ as soon as it was handed to her, not even caring that it was still burning hot. Obi-Wan stirred at the scent of coffee, blue eyes blinking open blearily and focusing rather disconcertingly sharp on the mug in front of his nose. Like a dying man reaching for water, he snatched up the mug and drained it, eyeing it with some confusion once no more spilled from it into his mouth. Anakin silently refilled it in the gap that Kenobi’s slowed mental state was trying to figure out how it as empty. He drained that mug too.

It took nearly four mugs of coffee before the Jedi Master was coherent and sober enough to realise he had company, all watching him with varying levels of concern and in Anakin’s case, wariness.  Ahsoka was curled up in her chair, having shuffled it as close to Padme as she could, downing her third cup of  shai . Both tea and coffee pots were laid out on the table, but only Obi-Wan was drinking coffee. Anakin wondered if he noticed as he watched the man blink a few times in near confusion.

He sensed  when the confusion turned to abashed embarrassment and Obi-Wan drew himself upright, clearing his throat.

“Ah, ahem, Good Morning Senator,” he said as if he had just walked in rather than thrown up on Padme’s balcony and then passed out on her couch. Padme gave him a flat look, sipping from her own mug. Anakin silently refilled Obi- Wan’s with coffee before taking up his own mug of  _ shai _ and sitting himself down next to his wife. Obi-Wan was clearly awake enough now to fill his own mug. Padme caught his hand and he blinked at the feeling of pride she had for hi m coming off in waves. He sent her a questioning look but she squeezed his hand instead.  Later .

“We weren’t expecting you,” Anakin said dryly, sipping _shai_ and looking anywhere but at his old master. For so long, he had hated the man’s very existence, had been haunted by the years of love abruptly ended in fiery betrayal, that returning here had been jarring. The part of his mind still swirling in the Dark screamed at him to end the man. The part of him that still clung to a childish dream sought to reach out and hold him until he never left again. He knew everything about Obi-Wan Kenobi, even the parts that he hadn’t considered existed before, and yet, somehow, found himself stuck on what to do. This was not the Kenobi he had defeated on the Death Star, cowed by years of living in the dusty hells of Tattooine, nor was he the proud General of the Clone Wars who had attempted to kill a man he thought of supposedly as a brother but eventually gave up on, leaving the lava to do his dirty work instead. A kinder man would have killed him, put him out of his misery and even Darth Vader would have accepted that.

Watching as the only father he had ever known walked away without looking back as he burnt, slowly but surely, had broken whatever sanity Anakin had had for a long time.

“Yes, well, I find myself rather confused as to how I came to be imposing on your hospitality, Senator.” Obi-Wan was avoiding Anakin’s gaze just as surely as he was.  Ahsoka watched over the rim of her mug, eyes narrowed. She didn’t give Padme time to answer.

“You came here. Drunk,” she noted, blue eyes narrowing to near slits. “You threw up on  Skyguy’s feet.” Her nose wrinkled slightly, no doubt the memory of the noxious small of vomit returning.  Togruta senses were far superior to humans and  Ahsoka had never liked the smell of bile. He remembered, suddenly, a time not too long after the mission to rescue that damned Hutt, her question as to the sour sickly smell from Jabba’s slaves, one of which had contracted one of the many common illnesses found among slaves kept in close quarters. Anakin had been surprised to learn she had little concept of what such a sickness was-  Togruta’s were unable to regurgitate anything from their stomach’s naturally and so the concept of throwing up anything was somewhat alien to the young  Padawan at the time. Over the course of the war, she had come to expect it from  Shinies after particularly difficult battles but she still hated the smell.

“ Ahsoka , it is very unlikely-“

“I dragged you off the balcony myself,” she interrupted him bluntly. “You were drunk, you passed out on Padme’s couch while Anakin cleared up and you still haven’t explained why you’re here and how you got so wasted in the first place.” Anakin almost smiled at her forcefulness as he watched Obi-Wan squirm under the concerned gaze of the two women in his life.

“I-I-“ For once, Obi-Wan was at a loss for words.

“Master Kenobi,” Padme said politely, “while I am honoured to have you in my home, I am less honoured when it involves you arriving black-out drunk lo o king for my husband.” Obi-Wan choked on his coffee as Padme gracefully sipped her own  _ shai _ . “I believe he, at least, is owed an explanation as to why you came here in the first place.” Obi-Wan swallowed loudly, staring down into his mug.

There was a long moment of silence as the Jedi Master digested this information. It must be a new sensation, Anakin realised, for things not to go this Kenobi's way in the end. Perhaps he had gotten drunk and come here in the hopes of talking Anakin into returning? Or some equally daring yet not thought through properly plan, fuelled by the insipidity brought on by drink.

It appeared he would have to be the one to speak first.

"You failed me," Anakin began quietly, bracing himself for what would inevitably be another horrible conversation. "It wasn't entirely your fault but you did. I couldn't stay there anymore and I most certainly will not be going back."

"The Temple is your home-" Obi-Wan started, eyes wide but Anakin cut him off.

"The Temple was never my home. Not from the moment people insisted I call them 'Master'." It was cold and harsh, something Skywalker would never have said, too terrified of still living the life of a slave. But Anakin had spent twenty years living in a hell worse than death, spitting poison at all others to compensate for his own self-hatred. There were worse truths that he could give the man than not being a free man even now. Obi-Wan went pale and Anakin thought he might be sick again but instead he glanced surreptitiously round the room.

"I'm afraid coffee is all we have at the moment unless you would prefer some water?" Padme asked politely, having noticed not only from Obi-Wan's glance but also the slight unintentional tightening of his hand on hers. Obi-Wan flushed almost as red as his hair. Anakin was startled to note a few strands of grey within it, almost invisible until the man blushed so red, coupled with the rising of the sun.

"Your coffee is excellent," Obi-Wan recovered with a soft cough. "And it seems you have given me much to think about."

"I'll drive you back to the Temple," Anakin said, standing to show that the older man that he had no choice in this, despite the faint protests he made. "The only reason Republic Security and the GAR didn't pull you over this morning for drunk driving was because you are a Jedi," he only half snapped. "I'm not letting you get yourself into _more_ trouble." Obi-Wan opened his mouth to refute this but Anakin was already gone, in search of his boots and a brief moment to compose himself.

He didn't realise Ahsoka had followed him until she spoke.

"Is it true? Why they didn't stop him?" she asked quietly. Anakin jumped slightly and almost fell over in his attempt to pull on his left boot. He grimaced and decided this would be easier done sitting.

"Mostly. The Clone Troops of the GAR are programmed to only observe the Jedi and take orders from them- those who are free-thinking enough usually ended up in my unit and would have let him off once they realised he was heading here. As for Republic Security... I met a man once called Vince Metcio who worked at the Senate. He was terrified of the Jedi and doubly so of Vader. A Jedi Master once screamed at him the one time he tried to pull over a Jedi Padawan for drunk driving. The Temple sued him, stating that no Padawan of theirs would ever have done so." Ahsoka stared at him throughout the explanation, mouth slightly open.

"But we went racing all the time! My Creche friends would go drinking with their Masters! Jedi are still people and make stupid mistakes!" she cried, astounded. Anakin shrugged, pulling on his other boot and standing.

"You know that. I know that. The Temple does not want others to know that. In the Outer Rim, Jedi are myths, legends, un-killable. They don't like people thinking that we are less so, despite what the war may show them. A Jedi lost in war is used as the reason why they insisted we had to continue the fight in the eyes of the volunteers within the GAR. The propaganda the Temple released was along the lines of 'you have seen what a Sith can do in Maul with Qui Gon Jinn's death. Think what they could do to you if we weren't there to help.'"

"So they lied?" Ahsoka whispered in horror. "They helped coerce the galaxy into war just to keep their image?" Anakin paused and winced as he thought over what he had just said. It was true, and yet at the same time, they hadn't meant it in so many ways. This was, after all, things he had found out as Vader much later on, mostly from Veers and Piett, clouded in his own anger towards the Jedi. Not even the Council knew that this was the effect they had on the people around them.

"They did what they thought they had to do to preserve the Jedi," Anakin said as gently as he could. "The Jedi Temple has stood for over a thousand years. Not even Yoda has been alive long enough to know what the world was like back then. The Jedi stagnated and Sidious took advantage of that and twisted their words. People will never see them the same way again after the Clone Wars and there is nothing we can do about that." It was probably the most generous thing that he could say about the Council at this moment in time.

"Does Padme know?"

"She does now," Anakin replied as he made his way back towards the landing pad.

"And Obi-Wan?" Ahsoka asked quietly. "Will you tell him?" Anakin stopped abruptly, swallowing. He could feel the Dark writhing about him, cold icy flames rising up at spending more time than necessary with the man. He didn't know what to think, what to feel. He was Kenobi, and yet he wasn't. He was the only father he had ever known and had still been left to die. He had watched the man break down and tried his best to build him back up again. He didn't... _know_ how to feel.

A small hand landed on his elbow. He blinked, trying to relax and failing. Blue eyes looked up at him and squeezed.

"It doesn't have to be now," Ahsoka murmured as another hand looped through his other elbow.

"You've done really well, Ani," Padme said quietly, stretching up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his cheek. "I can have my own driver take Obi-Wan back."

"No," Anakin said, pulling them both close in the Force. "This is something I have to do. It..." He hesitated a moment. "You're right Ahsoka. Someone else does need to know. But I can't..." Both women jumped forward to hug him.

"Not yet," Padme murmured into his chest, radiating pride, sadness and above all, love towards him. He relaxed and hugged them back.

* * *

Obi-Wan was sitting in the passenger seat of the speeder with his head in his hands. Anakin could almost feel the palpable shame radiating off the man as he jumped into the driver's seat, ignoring the give-away stench and stickiness of alcohol even on the seat.

"Where did I go wrong?" Obi-Wan whispered as soon as they were away from Padme's balcony and into the early morning traffic of Coruscant. "I never meant to make you feel like a slave."

"I know," Anakin said equally quietly. "I never held that against you. But I learnt over the years, that life for a Jedi crechling was far different from the one that I had come from. Other Jedi Masters refused to explain things if I got them wrong. It... The Temple never felt like home without my mother." It was a quiet admission that he had hidden for so many years.

"But I must have done  _ something _ ," Obi-Wan insisted.  "I can't stop thinking about the last few weeks, how you wouldn't even let me  _ touch  _ you. What happened Anakin?" He flinched, fingers tightening on the speeder's controls. So, he had noticed. Somehow Anakin had given away his jumbled emotions to the man who knew him best. He wondered if anyone else had noticed or thought over his actions the last few days.

"I've given you all the information you need right now," Anakin said through gritted teeth, suddenly wishing he had agreed to Padme's suggestion despite the Force's insistence. This conversation would not end well, he could feel it. The Force wanted for Obi-Wan to know but Anakin was done being a puppet for anyone, even the living Force.

"Anakin-" Obi-Wan started but cut off when seeing his expression. "Please, tell me how to make this right," his old master begged and Anakin jammed the speeder to a stop right outside the quietest landing pad in the Temple and leaned his head on the wheel. It was one only he had ever used. Obi-Wan let out a distressed groan, going a sickly shade of green but managed to keep hold of the coffee he had downed that morning.

"I need to speak to Yoda," Anakin said firmly, gripping the controls so hard the knuckles on his organic hand had turned white. "There's things... one day maybe." He said, deciding to end it there. He couldn't _do_ this now, not without having had some help first, there was no knowing what he might do. The urge to strangle the man and be done with it was strong but he  _ couldn't _ . He needed... he wasn't sure but it needed to be far from Obi-Wan Kenobi for now.

"Anakin-" Obi-Wan tried again, hand just missing him as he vaulted out of the speeder. The older man's fingers twitched a few times, making grasping movements as if confused as to where he had gone. Anakin turned away unable to face him.  _ Not yet  _ Padme had said. He was going to stick to that.

"Do not test me on this, Kenobi," he half-growled, feeling as the man recoiled at the sudden storm of the Dark around him. "There are things you don't know, plots that have yet to be shredded to pieces at my feet. Until then... until then, all you need to know is that the Anakin Skywalker you knew is dead. He has been for a very long time."

He left the man there, sat dumbfounded in the speeder, as he stalked away. It wasn't until a startled youngling inquired into his health that he realised he was crying.

* * *

Yoda seemed as unsurprised as ever to see him, despite having not made an appointment and bypassing the Temple Guards.

"Returned to the Temple, you have," the diminutive master noted dryly. "Come to see me, I think, about the future." Anakin dropped unceremoniously into the seat opposite, trying not to think of the last time he had done this.

"I'm in need of a mind healer before anything else. I have... concerns over Master Kenobi's health." Anakin started, deliberately aiming for the least important thing right now. This would require some build up and a need to show that he was not about to go on a killing spree. At least, with the proper help and support system that is.

"For what reason, you have?" Yoda asked, one ancient brow raised.

"It is my belief that Obi-Wan Kenobi has been suffering from a reliance on an overabundance of alcohol increasingly in the past few years. Maybe even before then. But, he's going to need better help now than ever before."

"Because left, you did, the Jedi Order," Yoda stated and Anakin frowned.

"I think you, of all the Jedi Masters, know why," He noted darkly. Yoda merely nodded solemnly.

"Called the healers already, I have, the moment Kenobi's disappearence was discovered. Your health, too, I am concerned for," Yoda said gravely. "Help you, I will, in any way you need. In exchange, knowledge you have." Anakin blinked, suspicious.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"Commune with the Force, I have. Spoken with Qui Gon Jinn, I have. Heard of this 'Father' and the horrors of the future." Yoda looked at him and Anakin caught a hint of sadness within the Force. For a moment, he saw himself as a nine year old little boy, scared, alone and cold in a room full of uncaring and indifferent Council members. "Keep for a new day, the Sith Lord will. Your health, first must come." Once again, Anakin almost caught the sound of a ventilator and deep breathing. He shuddered.

"Mentally, yes, I need help. But... I don't think I can find it here," he said truthfully. Yoda nodded gravely.

"Someone who understands slavery, you need. None of us here, know it, we do. But, a healer, I will help you find." The little green master was determined if nothing else and Anakin almost cracked a smile. A long distant memory of the Master asking his help to escape his own Council drifted into his head and the smile dropped.

"Do the rest of the Council know you have spoken with Qui Gon Jinn?" he asked, concerned. Yoda shook his head.

"Gone wrong, this timeline has, he said. Give warning, Kenobi's Master wanted, in case the message came too late." Anakin cocked his head, curious.

"Gone wrong how? If anything, I would say that for now, things have turned out better. In a way."

"Different, you are. Not the Skywalker we knew, are you. Unnatural, this is, to the order of the Force." For a moment, Yoda looked almost amused. "However, ordinary, not a thing common to you, is it not?" The master laughed at his own joke and Anakin smiled and rolled his eyes. Of course, the ghost of Qui Gon would be able to sense he was different. That he had somehow changed, or taken over the form of Anakin Skywalker.

His good mood left as he stared at the floor, unsure how much the old Jedi Master wanted to know.

"You wouldn't be wrong, about me being different. But... there's a lot I can't tell you at the moment. Things I need to figure out or change before I let you know what happened to me. Until then... talk to the troops, the volunteers especially. The Sith... he's using the Order's arrogance against you, starting with the men of the Republic who fight within the GAR. The Senate is already poisoned against you but the men... you might be able to salvage them. So long as you remind them that you are not living gods, they will be more willing to listen."

"Any candidates to start with, have you an idea?" Yoda asked.

"If you find a man named Veers, yes. Tarkin belongs to the Sith however, avoid him at all costs. He was the one at Ahsoka's trail."

"Remember this man, I do," Yoda nodded. "Your advice, sound, it is. Keep it in mind, I will, and pass on this knowledge, I shall."

"Don't bother with either Windu or Ki Adi Mundi. They won't believe it from them," Anakin warned. Those two were the more arrogant of the Council, oblivious to the way the world truly perceived them. And Windu had won himself no favours by killing Jango Fett without a trial. Yoda nodded once again as Anakin stood.

"Thank you for your help, young Skywalker," The little master croaked. "Pass on my compliments to your wife, you must."

Anakin tripped on his way out of the door, stunned, before bursting into laughter.

* * *

Three days later found Anakin dressed in deep royal blue Naboo style robes, simple silver bands threaded into his hair and a matching silver band on his finger, escorting his beautiful wife and fellow stranger to this world of banquets out of the speeder. Padme's dress hung around her loosely, but left her shoulders exposed, while Ahsoka's deep green dress was of a halter-neck style and designed to show off her montreals. 

They caused quite the stir.

Anyone who knew Naboo marriage traditions were most likely very confused. Marriage on Naboo was a big event, and no known Queen had been married without the knowledge of her people both in and out of office. On Tatooine, especially among it's slaves, marriage was taboo, a secret to be held inside one's own heart. So to anyone familiar with Outer Rim ideals, not so surprising. But very few knew where the Hero with no Fear hailed from and Anakin couldn't help the snicker that their shocked faces caused.

It took the media a little over three seconds to get over their shock and immediately they were bombarded with questions. Anakin wondered a moment what this Gala had been in aid of until he spotted the sign by the door. He grinned, twirled his wife around to face him and kissed her right then and there. Padme kissed him back just as enthusiastically as the cameras flashed. Ahsoka was mentally gagging at him and rolling her eyes. On the outside she was just grinning.

Eventually, they managed to ditch the press and gathered in a small corner of the party, not quite away from curious eyes, but somewhere people knew not to disturb them.

"You have to put up with this all the time?" Ahsoka asked Padme, sipping the glass of fruity something that was being provided to all guests. Anakin had downed it pretty quick at the sight of the cameras, thankfully before they had been spotted. Padme smiled.

"Much more when I was Queen of Naboo. Press gatherings, galas, political parties, treaties and meetings... you name it, that was where I had to be. As a Senator, it isn't much different although the press don't often want to talk to you unless you make a lot of noise," she said.

"So they want to talk to you a lot then?" Anakin asked brightly and earned himself a friendly smack as a result. He paid her back by finishing off her glass of alcohol too. Padme, frowned and plucked the glass from his hand.

"No more alcohol until after food," she said firmly and he just nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Whatever you say goes, my beautiful wife." That caused a smile and a roll of her eyes while Ahsoka pretended to be looking the other way.

The Gala itself was pretty boring. Other Senators drifted over to attempt to talk to Padme but it became pretty clear that her views did not align with theirs. Anakin noted a disturbing lack of Senators that he thought ought to be here and pointed it out to Padme, wondering if they just simply hadn't come as a protest. She shook her head, mirth gone.

"They weren't invited. As you can see, Palpatine only invited enough of us dissenters to make us the minority voice." That made Anakin smile viciously.

"He really ought not to underestimate what the minority can do," he said and something sparked in Padme's eyes.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, half-curious and half admonishing. He could sense she knew he was about to do somethign rather reckless.

"You'll see," he whispered, kissing her again, just because he could. She gave a small eyeroll and kissed him back.

She almost dug her heels in when she realised that he was leading her to Palpatine. That was until he faked a drunken stagger and winked at her. A decade of watching a drunk man act sober had taught Anakin how to do the opposite very quickly and given him an out of doing menial chores such as cleaning as a Padawan. Drunken Padawans were to be kept out of sight after all.

"Ah, Anakin, my boy!" Palpatine greeted with a gentle smile. "I see Senator Amidala has brought you here as her plus one!"

"I would hope she would, as my wife," he said with a fake soppy grin, leaning just a little too much on Padme to be decent. Padme gave the Chancellor a bright smile, pretending not to have noticed her husband's uncouth behaviour. Something sparked in Palpatine's eye.  _ Got you . _

"Oh, what wonderful news!" Palpatine stated, clapping his hands as if in joy. "And on this grand day as well. Senator, I'm so glad you're here to support this new cause as well!"

"Cause?" Anakin asked, pretending to look confused. "What cause? I thought we were here to give support against this new bill? Because it takes away the rights of the Clones?" He may have added an extra sway as silence dragged over Palpatine's little crew and the Sith Lord's face froze in icy shock. No one wanted to point out the Chosen ONe's faux par, that he didn't understand how these kind of Galas worked and that Senator Amidala must surely have known this... Anakin saw the moment Palpatine turned angry eyes on Padme who just gave him a sweet, innocent smile.

"Oh, yes, Anakin has been telling me all about your opposition to Senator Taa's awful proposition for the Clone soldiers within the GAR," Padme said in her sweetest, most innocuous voice. "Such a horrible plan that would see them treated as lesser beings than inanimate objects or even slaves and how you were planning to help us oppose it." Anakin almost laughed as Palpatine's face twitched.

"You aren't going to let Senator Taa go through with it, are you?" Anakin asked, following through on a drunkard's rapidly changing moods and pretending to sag. "I know you are not all powerful but you promised to do your best to stop it?" The cameras were rolling, reporters taking photo after photo. Palpatine either had to say no to a man he claimed as a life-long friend and father-figure to or reveal his true colours. And Anakin could feel the seething hatred the man had for them both, but especially Padme. The man thought she had put him up to this until he glanced up at Anakin. For the briefest of moment's he let slip uncertainty about the man, a frayed loyalty from watching his men lose more and more privilages while the volunteers kept theirs. Palpatine's face stretched into a grimace and patted his arm uncomfortably.

"Of course not, my boy. You and your wife may be comforted that I do not think of the Clones as slaves and will do all within my power to prevent such a travesty from happening." Anakin grinned like the sun, knowing that the man had to be grinding his teeth through such a speech.

"Thank you, Chancellor!" he exclaimed. "I'm sure you know how much this means to me!" A murmur raced through the crowd and Padme tugged visibly on his arm.

"Thank you Chacellor, for abating our worries. I'm sure my husband can sleep easy tonight, knowing you care so much about the Republic and all sentients within it." And without much more than that they turned and walked away, a path opening up for them.

Anakin could feel Palpatine still watching them even as the crowd lost interest and their speeder was called. As Ahsoka joined them he straightened, flattening his robes and turning to look straight back at the Sith Lord. A moment before he stepped into the speeder, he let his eyes flash sickly yellow and felt with great satisfaction, the man's sudden alarm, anger and frustration.

Padme slapped him one more time. "I think I prefer joking you," she murmured quietly. "That performance would have fooled me if I hadn't know you were doing it."

"You learn fast in Sidious' court." She was a quiet a moment before snuggling deeper into his arms.

"In the morning, you're going to teach me how to do that. I might have an idea about how to turn this Empire Sidious is building around."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Padme learns the ways of the Dark Side, Palpatine attempts to plot but keeps being thwarted by his startling new enemy and Obi Wan tries to reconcile with Anakin. This goes as well as you might expect.


	3. Breaking and Healing and Breaking Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the story that just keeps giving. I swear, next time is the final chapter, but this was getting far too long to not break down into another chapter.
> 
> Also, it isn't abandoned. I've just been struggling with my mental health, the plot and writer's block. I finally returned to this recently, after having to walk away for a little while, and will be aiming to finish my 'one-shot' (haha) project by the end of the year. So hopefully, not as long a wait as last time.
> 
> Please enjoy!

Morning came with a surprise. Anakin and Padme were woken by the agitated squawks of C3PO and R2-D2's amused beeps. It took his comfortably sleepy mind a moment to work out what the droid was on about. He startled Padme into full wakefulness as he launched himself out of the bed and began rummaging for clothes. Very _loudly _at that. 

"Ani?" Padme grumbled, rubbing her eyes and clutching the bedsheets to her chest. Anakin didn't allow himself to be distracted by this, pulling on clothes as fast as battlefields had previously taught him. He almost fell over a couple of times, unused to having to do so after so long within the single suit. "What's going on?" 

"Something I forgot about," Anakin grunted, swearing in Amatakka and Huttese as he knocked an elbow on her vanity. "Can you get Ahsoka?" He didn't wait for an answer. 

C3PO hovered nervously behind him as he ran full pelt towards the door. Ahsoka must have been woken by his alarmed Force presence as she was already halfway out of her own doorway, wearing a borrowed nightshirt from Padme. Despite their similar builds, the shirt still swamped her considering Anakin was fairly certain it was one his wife had filched from him after his final growth spurt at twenty. 

Anakin flung open the door to a rather startled Captain Rex, who had one fist raised as if about to knock upon the door once again. For a brief moment they stared at each other before Rex cleared his throat and dropped his fist. 

"General," he said awkwardly as Anakin stared at him further, daring to hope. There was a long moment of silence and Rex shifted awkwardly. He wasn't wearing a single blaster, despite still wearing armour, helmet tucked under one arm professionally. 

Rex gave a surprised grunt as Anakin lunged forwards, catching him in a tighter hug than he had thought possible. For a long, terrible moment, he had thought that Order 125 had been enacted. An Order, he had forgotten, hadn't been written yet and Rex would not have been a part of considering the man had been diligent about removing his own chip. That was how Ahsoka and Padme found them a few minuets later, the clone trooper staring over his shoulder in alarm at the two women. 

"General?" Rex practically squeaked, sounding concerned this time. Anakin reluctantly pulled back, flushing slightly. He hadn't really seen much of the soldier as Vader, but he had heard rumblings. The odd Stormtrooper that moaned how one of the rebels had been a particular crack shot, even with the terrible vision from the new helmets. It had been one of the few reasons he had found to smile. 

"Hello, Captain," Padme said gently, "you'll have to forgive my husband. It's been an odd couple of weeks." Rex blinked but took it in stride, glancing sideways at Anakin. 

"You cost me a hundred credits," he muttered under his breath. Anakin grinned. 

"Who won the jackpot?" he asked out of curiosity. He had always known they had one- had secretly encouraged the one regarding Obi-Wan and Satine, despite knowing it would never happen. 

"Fives," Rex absolutely-did-not-pout, but it was close. Anakin felt his grin stretch wider, despite the skip of his heartbeat. Nice to have that happen without something scream out a protest. 

"Come inside, Rex," he invited, dragging the man in by the shoulder. If the clone was alarmed by his ex-commander's physical contact, he did not show it, simply allowed himself to be taken into the apartment. He stood awkwardly in Padme’s large front room, as if unsure what to do now. Padme solved the problem by gesturing for him to sit, shooting Anakin a fond eyeroll. He could feel her exasperation with him through the Force and he grinned back, basking in the feeling. 

“Sit down, Captain,” Padme said politely. “No need for you to stand all the time.” She gently shoved Anakin towards the kitchen with a pointed look. Neither of them were particularly good cooks, but he could at least offer poor Rex some tea while visiting. “Can we get you anything?” 

“No Ma’am,” Rex said, shifting awkwardly on the spot a sitting gingerly on the edge of Padme’s couch. It was a rather odd sight, a clone in full armour, complete with scratches, dents and the odd blaster stain, sitting in the well-furnished and clean front room of a Senator. Anakin hid a smile at the thought of Threepio’s squawks later when he discovered the dirt later. 

He prepared four cups anyway. 

Ahsoka accepted her _shai_ with a sleepy smile, curled up in the armchair and Anakin joined Padme on the loveseat opposite Rex. The Clone stared at the cup placed under his nose in some surprise, but didn’t refuse it. 

“What can we do for you, Rex?” Anakin asked amiably. “I think I’ve been discounted as a General now.” By his own design at that. Over the last few days, he had been in contact with Yoda, discussing different therapists and Mind Healers, none of which gave him the right feeling in the Force. It was important that he sit with someone he could trust, but Yoda knew only Jedi Mind Healers and the Senate therapists could be in anyone’s pockets. Padme had found him a list to look over later of therapists for the voluntary force of the army who might be of more help, considering that they were used to dealing with people from the front lines. Hopefully, one of them would jump out at him, or he would have to turn elsewhere. Off-planet, maybe. 

“I know that. They reassigned us under General Kenobi,” Rex said in his best reporting voice. He looked nervous and Anakin could feel foreboding in the Force. He frowned into his own _shai_. 

“What’s wrong, Rex?” he asked, leaning forwards. “What happened?” 

“There was an... incident on Ringo Vinda’s ring station,” Rex started hesitantly. Anakin paled. _Fuck, fuck I forgot and killed __Tiplar__. _Rex gave him an odd look as he reached his flesh hand blindly out for Padme. His wife caught it and gripped it tightly, pressing her lips to it. 

“Anakin,” she whispered. “Did this...?” 

“General?” Rex asked, startled. Anakin swallowed, placing the _shai_down on the table. 

“It was Master Tiplar, wasn’t it?” Anakin said softly. Rex nodded warily. “Tup?” 

“On the way back to Kamino,” Rex said grimly. “Fives went with him.”_ He did? _Anakin frowned. 

“The droids didn’t try to take him back?” he asked. Padme blinked, surprised and Ahsoka sat up higher in her seat, alert. 

“They tried,” Rex growled. “I insisted on going on board. General Kenobi has been... off... for days and he was barely functioning at Ringo Vinda. Lucky I was used to surviving your flying, General.” Anakin grimaced, remembering how young he had used to be, how proud he had been in those crashes. Later, they had been failures, just one lost chance after another to die. Eventually, he had realised that the suit prevented him from truly dying and if it was too badly damaged, Sidious had ensured that someone was on hand to drag him back to medical. 

“They find anything yet?” Anakin croaked instead. 

“They said his chip malfunctioned, set off an order that hadn’t been given.” The cup of _ shai _ on the table exploded and Padme yelped, ducking behind Anakin to avoid the shards. In the blink of an eye, he had focused on each and every molecule in the shards and drops of tea in the Force. It froze in the air, going nowhere near the others. _I will not hurt them again. And I will fail every time. _The two thoughts chased each other around his head as Padme peaked out from behind him and Ahsoka blinked. 

“Skyguy?” she asked uncertainly. “Is this... you?” Anakin blinked and gently lowered the shards of mug into the bin and the liquid into the sink. 

“I’m sorry,” he said blankly, oddly reminiscent of the vocoder. “I have better control than that.” Ahsoka launched herself across the room as Padme pounced on him. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Ahsoka hissed, beating at his chest, “You let those feelings out! We _talked _about this! _Padme_ talked about this with you!” Anakin swallowed again. 

“Right, let feelings out,” he said, standing. “Darling, is there a room in need of decoration?” 

“I don’t use the dining room,” Padme said. “I’ll claim it was a party.” Anakin nodded. 

“Excuse me.” 

* * *

Hours later, and a quick clean up via Force and the garbage chute, Anakin strolled back into the living room to find Ahoska curled up, shivering. Guilt stabbed at him, feeding the residual Dark Side floating about him, the unruly feelings of anger and hatred usually so carefully controlled, dashed to shreds at the reminder of the danger sat in the room with them. Rex had removed himself, his last expression one of fear and deep confusion that Anakin could remember. He sat as far from Ahsoka as possible. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I’ve seen in your head,” Ahsoka replied, still shivering and clutching a mug of cold ordinary tea. “I saw the worst of you and what you felt at the time.” She paused and bit her lip. “What scared me was how you locked those feelings up at the first hint that your control was slipping. You can’t live your life like that, Anakin.” He flinched at the use of his name, and bowed his head in acceptance. 

“I know. I’m... trying, but without a therapist... I don’t know how to do this. I’ve... never known how to do this.” Ahsoka swallowed, glancing at her mug. 

“I could do with some _shai_,” she said shyly. “It’s helped me to think.” Anakin smiled. 

“Sure.” 

He showed her the ingredients that went into it, the specific leaves that he had found in a lower level market from a secret path Padme had not known about until he showed her. Since then, either Padme or one of her handmaids would go down to buy more when they ran out. Lately, Anakin was taking the trip himself, buying more than usual considering the amount they were going through a week. Together they mixed the leaves and spices, and he showed her to pour the first mug back in, to show gratitude and thanks to the Goddess. Finally, they took the full pot and clean mugs back to the seats. 

“Tell me what else Rex had to say,” Anakin asked as gently as he could. As Vader, he had not needed to ask, could just demand, but he was determined to do better. It still came out sounding like an order, but thankfully Ahsoka smiled as she brushed against his shields, feeling that regret and forgiving it. 

“Not much. Just that he would keep us up to date and would be getting updates from Fives and the men he sent to guard them once they reach Kamino.” She paused to sip her tea, breathing in the scent she found so calming. “Can you... tell me more about this?” she asked then, hesitantly. “I know you don’t like talking about Tatooine...” 

“The planet holds a lot of dark memories for me,” he agreed, leaning back in his seat. “But, I had forgotten the stories and culture for a long time. When I was hunting Luke, after I heard that he had had a run in with the Hutts... It brought those memories back.” He had wanted to burn them in the heat of the desert from where they were born, but instead he had been drawn to the little homestead owned by the Lars and drowned in the echoes of happiness in the Force from Luke. It had burnt him all over again, but it was a good hurt, an aching loss he deserved. _He was happier away from me. He would always grow up happier there than if I had raised him. _It was a truth he had not been able to tell himself that day, but one he could openly admit to now. It was progress, of a sort. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Ahsoka said quickly, looking oddly guilty. He realised he had been leaking sadness into the Force and she had misinterpreted that. 

“No!” he said quickly, too forcefully as she flinched back. “No,” he tried again, gentler this time. “It is not that, it’s just... I’m sad because I let myself forget. Because I discarded everything to do with Tatooine the day I lost my mother and only remembered when I was lost. We have a story about that, to teach us _ not _to forget, but I failed to heed it. That’s why I was sad. Because I realised what I had lost.” 

“Oh.” Ahsoka mulled that over quietly a moment. “Does Padme know?” He nodded. 

“She was the one who kept asking when I first made her _shai_. She wanted to know its significance, to teach our future children.” He glanced sadly into his own mug, thinking of Luke who knew of his heritage, and Leia who never did. Or if she had, had most likely discarded it because it belonged to Vader. “It never occurred to me that our children would have something I threw away to become a Jedi proper.” Ahsoka snorted. 

“You were never a proper Jedi,” she said through giggled and he smiled with her. 

“True,” he agreed, “but at the time I thought I was.” It was pleasant, to spend time like this before things went downhill once more. He would hold on to this for a while. 

* * *

When the Force made him pause on a name he sat and stared at it a while before exploding into expletives that made Padme jump. She glanced up from her own datapad at his side, to peek over his shoulder at the list of names she had given him and blinked in surprise. 

“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t even realise...” 

“Fucking Sith on a stick,” Anakin muttered, allowing the flow of old, youthful emotions take him along as he stared at the profile again, reading through the file once again. “The Force hates me.” 

“Did you know him before?” she asked, sounding only partially curious. Despite the leaps and bounds they had made in their relationship, there were still some things that didn’t sit right with her. And times like these, where he may have potentially killed that person in the future, had her wary, unless they had caused an impact like Obi-Wan. 

“No,” Anakin reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek. She turned her head so their lips met instead. He pulled back with a soft smile, refusing to lose himself to the moment. Unfortunately, the Force was singing that this was important, that this was to be his psychiatrist. “I honestly didn’t even know he existed until this moment.” 

“Then I doubt the Force hates you,” Padme said with a teasing smile. “Do you want to speak with him in private?” 

“No, I’ll just send an enquiry for now. He might not even have room for me.” 

“I doubt that, Ani. We made the news.” The Holonet was still running the story, even weeks later, offering any and all knowledge (most of it wrong) on the differing marriage customs of Naboo and Tatooine. Whenever they went out, even just to go on a walk in the parks or to dinner, they would be hounded by journalists all wanting a story for their network. They very rarely got one, although Anakin did have to reign in his temper and the Dark Side in order not to create a catastrophe in the middle of Coruscant. 

He sighed. “I know. It’s just... why?” That last question was aimed at the universe and the Force. The Force, and his wife, both laughed at him. 

And so it was, a week later, he was sat in a small private medical office surrounded by wide-eyed patients, waiting to see his new psychiatrist. He tugged at the hood of his robe, a deep navy blue reminiscent of Jedi robes gifted to him by Padme and decorated with custom Amatakkan swirls. She had worked with him and the designer to get it just right, insisting on the cut because she rather liked him in the Jedi robe, but was happy to do away with the layers of tunics and tabards that made undressing such a chore. Especially whenever they had been in a hurry. He smiled just remembering their small private trysts on various Star Cruisers, and the conniption half the Jedi Order would have upon learning that fact. A fact, it had to be said, was a poorly kept secret from the Clones. 

The door to the office opened and a man with a greying head of red hair popped his head out, scanning the occupants of the room before settling on him. He stepped out of the office proper and approached with a tight, controlled smile. 

“Anakin Naberrie I presume,” he said politely, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Please, come into my office.” Anakin nodded, following the man away from the staring eyes. 

Sy-Ro Kenobi was a man five years his brother’s senior, with a startling similarity to him if Obi-Wan ever decided to shave. Since his old Jedi Master took pride in his facial hair however, that was unlikely. Sy-Ro's own hair was a deeper shade of red though, streaked with grey, and the majority of lines around his eyes were from laughter rather than disapproving stares at his young, exasperating Padawan. He was stockier than Obi-Wan as well, more akin to a wrestler than a dancer, and less apt to judge, if the sense he got through the Force was anything to go by. The man gestured for him to sit, settling into a chair opposite, a datapad sat next to his chair which he made no move to pick up. 

“It isn’t often I get requests from the Jedi Order,” Sy-Ro Kenobi started, “and I usually refuse them.” 

“I had heard,” Anakin said, liking the man’s honesty and sincerity already. He was rather more straightforward than his brother. “Which was why I insisted they put me in as the contact first. Grand Master Yoda was adamant all payment goes through the Temple, however, as reimbursement for my years and service.” It had been an oddly kind gesture from the small little troll, and one Anakin had tried to gratefully turn down. Through his marriage with Padme, and a few other plans he had brewing, he had all the money he needed to pay the fees, certainly enough to pay the modest price Doctor Kenobi charged. The man in question looked intrigued but did not comment. 

“I am also aware that you once served under my brother, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Sy-Ro said conversationally. “Are you sure there will be no conflict of interest here?” 

“Will there be?” Anakin asked, raising an eyebrow. Sy-Ro simply bent his head to one side, considering. 

“Not from my side,” he said finally. “But I am rather curious as to why you picked me in the first place.” _And there’s the probing questions. I was beginning to wonder if it was a Kenobi trait or just something of Obi-Wan's. _

_ “_A few reasons,” Anakin admitted. “First and foremost, that the Force was rather insistent. Following that, I looked into your history- an ex-lawyer and primarily therapist for soldiers in the front. It seemed... appropriate for my needs, although my tale will seem strange and mad.” 

“I was warned about that. A Master Windu had taken the time to inform me via additional note that you could be quite vexing.” Anakin snorted at that comment, further amused by the bright entertainment Sy-Ro shared. 

“I suppose I was, at one point,” Anakin mused. 

“I prefer vexing to proper Jedi form,” Sy-Ro commented with a wink. Anakin got the sense that this man had something else hidden, something that wasn’t in his files. _His own brother is a General in the army, yet he treats soldiers who volunteer and sneers at the comments of the Jedi and the Force. There might be a reason why the Force sent me to him after all._

It was not the most comforting thought in the world. 

* * *

Padme, Anakin had found, would have made a terrifying Dark Side user if she ever had access to the Force. Her lessons on deceiving Palpatine, coupled with continued guidance on stronger shields than he had already shown her, made her a formidable opponent. And they would need that as they approached the man in question’s office, the day after his first appointment with Sy-Ro Kenobi. 

Palpatine had sent them an invite to meet with him for lunch at the Senate building, amicable in tone, but leaving no room for argument. Padme had decided to work from home that morning, so that they could go over their plan of action before. For extra protection, he pulled Padme under his shields, creating the whirling sandstorm that had stopped Sidious from discovering his true plans for Luke. 

It also helped that the man still thought he was the stupid boy from the original timeline. 

“Ah, yes, Padme, Anakin, do come in!” Palpatine greeted them genially once they were ushered through his security. Anakin wondered whether the guards had any idea of the creature that sat within. It made him glad that they had left Ahsoka at home, talking over the comm with Rex. They had planned it so that the news of Order 66 would be sent to the Council while Palpatine was distracted. Rex and Fives had wanted to report it straight away but, after a long talk with Anakin regarding the future, had agreed to postpone until the opportune moment. And Palpatine had not failed to deliver. 

“Good Afternoon, Chancellor,” Padme said politely, allowing Anakin to pull out her chair for her. “We are most thankful for the invitation.” 

“Oh, no need to be so formal,” Palpatine dismissed, waving a hand. He had arranged his features to that of the caring mentor over these two young, impressionable youths. “We have known each other for a long time, after all. Why, without you I would never have gotten this opportunity!” Padme hid her grimace by squeezing Anakin’s hand. He gave it a subtle gentle soothing rub with the pad of his thumb, wishing he kind kiss her and tell her it wasn’t her fault. She had been fourteen, scared for her people, and manipulated by a man far older than he appeared. 

Twisting mentalities was Sidious’ speciality after all. 

“Of course,” Anakin said, bright and cheery as if nothing had ever changed. “It’s been so long since we saw you after all. At the party, I think.” Palpatine was not quiet quick enough to hide the irritated flash. Word of Anakin’s antics had gotten out, and people began rallying around Padme’s cause, arguing rights for the Clones. Some even argued that Palpatine had been obviously fake with Anakin, clearly supporting the stripping of rights from his men. 

“Ah, well, I’m sure your wife has told you how busy the Senate has been,” Palpatine simpered. Padme had, in fact, told him, included him on the drafting of new bills to bring up to the Senate, making use of the sudden popular political clout she had. Being the wife of the so-called Chosen One had its perks after all. 

“I know,” Anakin said without prompting, as if this were just another conversation between them. He allowed bright certainty for the man to leak through, feigned and put on. Palpatine was vain enough not to notice how superficial it was. “Padme and I used to barely be able to speak when I was fighting from the front! If it wasn’t a battle, it was a Senate session!” He gave an insincere pout, allowing his body to droop in its seat. Padme visibly looped her arm through his, laying her head on his arm, giving in to the informal feel of the meeting. 

“It was so hard for us,” she murmured, eyes misting. “But now, we have all the time in the world.” She pecked his cheek, squeezing his arm. Palpatine made a cooing noise- Anakin had no doubt he was gagging mentally at the overwhelming waves of love Anakin was projecting into the room. _Let him spend days clogging it back up _he thought viciously, knowing that the amount of Light he was projecting no doubt stung. 

“Oh, it is so good to see such young love during these troubled times,” Palpatine said, clasping his hands in feigned delight. “Yes, I believe this calls for a toast!” He called in a servant, who had no doubt been waiting outside the doors. They carried a tray of small delicacies, barely enough to feed anyone, and a bottle of champagne. Three glasses were already set up alongside it. 

Anakin sensed nothing from the champagne, thankfully. He wouldn’t put it past the man to not have put something in Padme’s drink in an attempt to kill her. With her dead, he probably thought Anakin would be vulnerable enough to Fall. 

It made him want to laugh out loud. 

“To the Skywalker family!” Palpatine said, raising a glass full of bubbly. Anakin resisted the urge to say, “Naberrie,” and instead clinked his glass against the Chancellor’s. He swallowed his disgust with the drink. 

“Now, come, you must tell me all about the wedding,” Palpatine insisted as they began on the food. “It must have been so lonely and hard, to hide such a love as yours all these years.” Anakin allowed Padme to launch into an enthusiastic account of their marriage, many of the details fake. As if they would ever tell this_ sleemo_ of the beauty of their wedding, stolen and secret and so precious to the both of them. Instead, he focused on gazing adoringly at her, while laughing behind his shields as the man’s frustration grew. Palpatine had no interest in the colour of the flowers, or the food served in Padme’s fake account of their marriage. Several times he cut in, as if about to attempt to change the topic, but Padme stayed so earnest about it that he had no choice but to listen. With Anakin not breaking in at all to stop her, instead allowing her to shuffle over so she was half in his lap, there was no way he could use Anakin as an excuse either. 

Eventually, Padme ran out of things to say and the topic changed to what Palpatine clearly wished to press. A good half an hour had gone by, wasted spectacularly, and there was nothing the man could do about it. In another half hour, the man’s lunch break would be up and they could escape his oily presence. 

“I hope you two will forgive me for all that unpleasantness regarding dear young Ahsoka,” Palpatine said, moving quickly on from weddings in the hopes he could stop Padme. Anakin gave her a fond squeeze, deciding to show her later in her office just how much he loved her. “How is she doing, do you know?” 

“Oh, Ahsoka’s living with us,” Anakin said bluntly. “With what the Council did to her, I just couldn’t stay.” 

“And I was more than willing to open my home to Anakin’s adoptive sister,” Padme added, smiling sweetly. “After all, I know blood means little for familial bonds on Tatooine.” She shared a knowing glance with Anakin, no doubt both of them thinking of Owen and Beru Lars. 

Sy-Ro had given him homework to perhaps trying to connect with the man who had raised Luke, to learn more of how his son had grown up. Anakin was somewhat reluctant- he had never really known how voluntary his mother’s marriage to Cliegg Lars was- but Beru was a second generation Freeborn woman. If anyone would understand his misgivings, it would be her. And from how Luke had been, he supposed Owen couldn’t be all bad. But he hadn’t been ready last night, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready now. 

Padme said they would comm when he was. 

“Ah, a fitting placement,” Palpatine said. “If she were looking for work, I am more than happy to help.” He seemed to have ignored the ‘adopted’ part completely. 

“Actually, we were thinking of funding her through college,” Padme said. “We’ve been looking at quite a few schools- she's only sixteen after all, and she’s very keen on a mechanical degree. It seems my husband and sister-in-law are both determined to make everything in the apartment sentient.” 

“Hey, the coffee machine isn’t sentient, it just doesn’t think a triple espresso is a healthy breakfast,” Anakin protested lightly. The sentience on that had been more an accident that intentional. Padme huffed good-naturedly. Palpatine’s eye twitched in annoyance. 

“I see,” he said, putting on a sad façade. “It is so easy to forget that she is so young. What age did you say she joined the front?” 

“Thirteen,” Anakin said shortly, allowing real frustration to bleed into his voice. “Far too young.” 

“Yes, most definitely,” Palpatine agreed. Most of what followed was more small talk, he and Padme effectively making everything a domestic topic, so easy to steer away from the Chancellor’s needling questions. The latter half hour was wasted most delightfully, and Anakin thought he had left enough of a loving Force presence in the room to drive the man up the wall for_ months_. 

It was very satisfying. 

They almost ran into Mace Windu as they left Palpatine’s quarters. It froze Anakin still, noting three familiar faces with him, all marching to their doom. People were turning to stare, the sight of so many Jedi in the Senate rare. Anakin did the only thing he could. 

“Master Windu!” he called, making as much as a ruckus as he could. Padme followed in his wake, apologising to anyone he knocked over in his ‘enthusiasm’ to reach the man. “Master Windu!” The man in question paused, face irritated. 

“Whatever it is Skywalker, it will have to wait-” Anakin flung both arms around the man, pulling him close in what to everyone else looked like a hug. 

“Go into that room and you’re all going to die,” he hissed in the man’s ear. “Say nothing, follow me out, and don’t so anything stupid.” He allowed a threatening aura to fall around the pair of them, alerting the three others to his Darker presence. They all looked wary. 

“Ahem, yes, Skywalker, it is good to see you too,” Windu said in the most wooden way possible, awkwardly patting Anakin on the back. He was stiff as a board as Anakin pulled away. 

“Master Windu,” Padme greeted him politely, having finally caught up to her husband. “Would you and your companions have time to join us for lunch? We were just heading home to order from Dex’s.” What Palpatine had served was more akin to a snack than lunch. 

Windu looked constipated as he tried to agree, following them out of the building, Masters Fisto, Kolan and Tiin looking rather startled behind them. Once they were all within Padme’s covered speeder did Anakin turn on them. 

“What stupidity was that?” he spat, alloing the Dark to bleed into his eyes and voice. All four jumped, on edge. He blinked away the sickly yellow. “I believe Rex would have passed on my message to_ not_ rush in without a plan!” 

“Your Captain did say something about that,” Tiin agreed. Windu scowled. 

“We had a plan,” he snapped. “The Chancellor can have no prior knowledge of an attack, and delaying would prolong the war-” 

“I bloody well know that!” Anakin shouted, angrier than he had been in a long time. Angrier than he had ever shown them before. Skywalker would never have dared shout at his Masters, even frustrated and annoyed as he had been in the past. Anakin had no such compunctions. “However, unlike the lot of you, I know how powerful the bastard is! You’d all be _dead_ by the end of the day if you’d gone in there and the war continued anyway!” Padme laid a calmly hand on his shoulder and Anakin took a deep breath, trying to reign himself in. “Do you really think I _ want _ to prolong the war?” 

“You have just shown us that you have Fallen,” Windu growled, lightsaber out. What he thought he would do with it in a confined space with someone who knew how to disable the thing without touching it (knowledge that neither Skywalker, nor Vader had, but was somehow in his head- he blamed the Father) was anyone’s guess. Anakin glared at him. “Perhaps you have been feeding on it all this time.” 

“Or perhaps, I want Sidious dead, just like the rest of you,” Anakin growled back. Padme’s arms were around him and he turned, pulling her close and breathing her in. A moment of calm in the storm. 

“I trust my husband,” Padme said firmly, staring down four Jedi Masters with all the ferocity she had. She had never been intimidated by them, least of all Windu. “And I know what he says is true. That man... Dooku knew of him on Geonosis, before the war. And he has been in power since I was Queen- perhaps it might make you think of exactly who orchestrated this whole façade? Because it was not Anakin.” 

Anakin heard Windu’s jaw click shut. 

* * *

Ahsoka was not alone when they finally returned to the apartment. Sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of coffee, looking extremely out of place, was Obi-Wan. Unlike last time, he looked far better put together, despite the dark circles under his eyes. His Force presence, and general small, indicated he had not touched any alcohol yet, or for a while. He was sweating, thinly disguised shakes hidden by his robes. Anakin winced internally. 

Windu and the other Masters left quickly, as if sensing how awkward this conversation was going to be. Ahsoka shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Anakin sighed, sliding into the seat opposite him. 

“Obi-Wan,” he greeted him quietly. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t mean to be quite so blunt, but he didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with the man if he were about to be in a drunken stupor again. 

“I... I... came to thank you,” he said, with a soft cough. “Master Yoda and the Mind Healers said you were the one to recommend I needed help.” 

“Your therapist told you to come here,” Anakin said with a sudden realisation. Obi-Wan looked supremely awkward. 

“Ah, yes.” He coughed again, as if clearing his throat offered him a way out of this conversation. “They thought... it would help. If I understood how I had hurt the people around me...” 

“They ought to have sent you to Cody,” Anakin grumbled irritably. “He worried the most.” Perhaps, because he was the least used to it. Anakin didn’t like that he had become so numb to it that he hadn’t thought of it being a problem before. “I had to convince him you wouldn’t find anything in the walls of the ship.” Obi-Wan stared blankly at him in horror. 

“Oh,” was all he said quietly. And lapsed into silence. He shivered, as if cold. Anakin sighed, standing and retrieving a blanket from the cupboard. 

“Sit on the couch,” he instructed the man, wrapping the blanket around him. “You’re suffering from withdrawal, you shouldn’t have even come.” 

“Withdrawal?” Obi-Wan said blankly. “No, I didn’t drink enough...” 

“You were drinking enough to throw up when you came here. I don’t know how much you’ve been drinking between then and now. But enough to cause withdrawal.” He tucked in the corners so the Jedi Master was essentially a blanket burrito. Obi-Wan allowed himself to be led to the couch and laid down. 

Tears leaked from blue eyes, startling Anakin. 

“I failed you,” the Jedi Master sobbed. “I know I did, even without you telling me. I just... I failed to save Qui-Gon and now I’ve failed to save you _and_ Ahsoka.” Anakin swallowed hard. For the first time since returning, since things had changed, he didn’t see the man who had left him to burn. Instead, he saw a man lost and without aid in the cold world of the Jedi, where they spurned emotion over serenity. 

“You didn’t fail to save me,” Anakin whispered, allowing the man to grip his organic hand. After the day he had had, he was exhausted and, if he were honest with himself, he _had_ missed the man. “You were the only Father I ever knew, whether you knew how to be one or not.” Obi Wan stared at him with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know if I can love you enough to be a Father,” he croaked, eyes full of guilt and shame. “I... All I was taught said it was wrong. But... I tried to love you enough to be a brother at the very least?” Anakin gave him a smile, giving the man’s hand a squeeze. 

“Love isn’t something to be quantified, Obi-Wan,” he said. “It just is, like the Force. And I know you can love enough to be a Father. But, I’ve never had a brother either.” 

He sat for the rest of the evening with the man, holding him as he cried and shook, wracked by grief near twenty years old now, and changed for the better, he hoped. He wasn’t shallow enough to think that Obi-Wan had thrown alcohol away completely- even he knew that change was hard, and it would take longer than a few weeks to fix everything. 

But, for now, it was enough to hope for the future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time, Anakin faces the Council, the Council face Palpatine and the Twins make an appearance. Ahsoka thinks she will be a good Aunt, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's an Uncle or Grandfather. Only the Force can tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Time: Anakin faces Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan must confront a problem he has been hiding since Qui Gon's death and Anakin tries to find a therapist. Padme is trying and Ahsoka's just along for the ride.


End file.
